Fishing Days Poem by Thomas Hooker

Fishing days
peaceful clouds,
drifting with western winds
whisking abstract thoughts,
gently chasing
alabaster shapes,
casting lines
in to deeper pools, with
mountain melodies and
nurturing streams
holding the rocks
gravity
took
down.
These are only words,
I think about their order,
their hidden prose,
dark as they need to be,
striking a chord,
in seasons of rhythm,
fishing for answers
that aren't really there.